Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are the property of
others. I am only playing with them and I will give them if asked to do
so. Sadly, but I will. Cat
They almost made it. They had been cutting across country, she leading the way, when they came to a wide gully, steep slope down, a rushing torrent at the bottom and a steep slope up and there was the house. It looked warm and welcoming and a long way away.
"Crossing's up that way, a few hundred yards," she said, looking back. She was holding her coat collar tightly against the rising wind.
Frank nodded. If it had been him alone, he'd have taken Hidalgo across right there. Pellets of hail were already beginning to fall, cutting into the water and pockmarking it. Hidalgo shifted uncomfortably under the quickening assault of ice and Billy was beginning to back up, head down, ears twitching nervously.
"Push on, ma'am. Fast as Billy'll let ya."
She glanced at him and he read the fear in her eyes. He pulled his hat down more firmly and wheeled Hidalgo, taking the side nearest the gully and trying to shelter his companion. She kicked Billy forward but it was a worry, watching his own way and hers, with the hail pelting them painfully and obscuring their way.
In a few minutes he knew they had to get off and try to wait it out. His pants were soaked through and he was cold to the bone. Hidalgo was miserable, head down, trying to resist going forward into the wind. They should be standing, backs to the hail, waiting for it to pass.
He leaned over to her and shouted about the clatter of ice on stone. "We gotta lead them, ma'am. Get off him."
She looked at him, her mouth forming a question, so he dismounted and hoped she'd follow suit. The ground was slippery, covered in little icy ball- bearings, and he had trouble keeping his feet for a moment. He looked up to check her progress when he'd turned Hidalgo and settled him. She stood only a couple of feet away and he instinctively stepped back, surprised at her invasion of his personal space. She clung to Billy's reins but seemed at a loss what to do next.
He gathered his stupefied wits and pulled her close, setting her back to his chest and by virtue of his height giving her some shelter. Billy was pulling at her, and he could feel her being dragged a little way from him then back. She didn't complain. She didn't say anything and he could only see her hat, crammed down as tight as his own. He could feel her shaking with cold, though, and wished for a moment to be able to do something to help her.
In a few minutes, the worst of the storm passed, leaving a whitened landscape, brilliant in the first shaft of sunshine. He released her so that she could tend to Billy, while he patted Hidalgo, reassuring him, checking him out for any sore spots.
Quite what happened next, he couldn't for the life of him remember. All he did was bend over to check out his horse's foreleg, then something bumped him, shoving him off-balance and making him take a step back to steady himself. His foot simply did not connect with anything. He slithered backwards, letting go of Hidalgo's rein and trying to grab anything to stop himself, but the steep slope was awash with hailstones and sliding mud. There was nothing to stop him, then he was on his stomach, trying to get himself turned round somehow.
A rock broke his fall. He waited, panting and numb, for the world to make some sense again, then tried to raise his head. A vicious burst of hail made him groan and lie still; then it was gone and he could begin to look around him.
He was half-way down the slope. He thought he was all right, mainly, though moving just right then was out of the question. Waiting until his heart stopped trying to beat its way of out his chest seemed like a plan. Maybe just a few moments' rest, even sleep, would fortify him before he climbed that slope. Or maybe slid to the bottom. Making the decision to do either was beyond him.
"Frank!"
He didn't want to wake. It was warm, the place he'd drifted to, and it was comfortable. Waking up meant facing the cold and the discomfort and the – the sheer trouble of climbing back into his life. But the voice, whosever it was, wasn't going to allow him the luxury of any more sleep.
"Frank! You okay?"
Well, of course he was okay. Heck, he'd fallen off enough horses in his life. Couldn't be much worse than that. Once, he'd broken his leg way out in the prairie. Still managed to get himself back to town and fixed up. Hadn't needed no help, neither. Stubbornly, he kept quiet. Maybe she'd just go on her way.
"I'm coming down. Will your horse stand for me? Billy's run off – I don't know what else to do!"
O'Donnell. Lil. As he remembered who she was, he knew he had to stop her. "No, ma'am, you wait right there. I got myself here, I can get myself out of this." He gathered himself sufficiently to drag himself up onto his knees but putting his right hand down on the ground sent hot knives of pain up his forearm. He kneeled, head down, until they passed then looked up. Some fifteen or twenty feet above him she was kneeling too, peering out over the edge of the gully, with Hidalgo right behind her. She had his lariat in her hand and was uncoiling it rapidly.
"If I drop this down, can you tie it round yourself?"
"I'll try." He already knew he couldn't but if he agreed, the moment when he would have to admit defeat would be put off a little while.
The rope snaked out to him. It was a good throw and he caught the lifeline in his left hand, hoping unreasonably that he could somehow lash it and tie it with one hand. He stood, letting the rope take some of the strain until he realised she was the only one holding his weight.
"Ma'am!" he shouted anxiously. "Let the horse bring me up. I'll pull you over!"
She looked puzzled for a moment then scrambled to her feet. Then she shouted down to him, "How? How do I tie it to him? He won't stand still!"
"You jug-eared son of a mule! Stand for the lady! You ain't got the manners of a jackass!" He was feeling dizzy and nauseous but his tirade vented his feelings and focused his mind. Somehow he managed to wrap the rope once round himself then bring both ends to his left hand. "Dally it round the pommel – tie it off with a half-hitch. He'll pull when I tell him to."
He could hear her sobbing and knew she was having to make this up as she went along. She had no call to know about lariats and roping and such. She had no idea what he meant so he tried again. "Loop the end of the rope over and under and round, like a figure eight – that'll hold it. Hidalgo'll do the rest."
After a few agonising moments she shouted, "I got it! I think I got it. You tie yourself on tight, Frank – the ground's shifting up here!"
Now he had to tell her. "Can't do it, ma'am. You just shove that horse back best you can and I'll hold on."
The rope tightened in his hand and he made it six feet or so before he lost his hold and he fell again, trying this time to roll onto his back. As unconsciousness took his vision, the last sound he heard was Miss Lilian O'Donnell shouting his name.
They almost made it. They had been cutting across country, she leading the way, when they came to a wide gully, steep slope down, a rushing torrent at the bottom and a steep slope up and there was the house. It looked warm and welcoming and a long way away.
"Crossing's up that way, a few hundred yards," she said, looking back. She was holding her coat collar tightly against the rising wind.
Frank nodded. If it had been him alone, he'd have taken Hidalgo across right there. Pellets of hail were already beginning to fall, cutting into the water and pockmarking it. Hidalgo shifted uncomfortably under the quickening assault of ice and Billy was beginning to back up, head down, ears twitching nervously.
"Push on, ma'am. Fast as Billy'll let ya."
She glanced at him and he read the fear in her eyes. He pulled his hat down more firmly and wheeled Hidalgo, taking the side nearest the gully and trying to shelter his companion. She kicked Billy forward but it was a worry, watching his own way and hers, with the hail pelting them painfully and obscuring their way.
In a few minutes he knew they had to get off and try to wait it out. His pants were soaked through and he was cold to the bone. Hidalgo was miserable, head down, trying to resist going forward into the wind. They should be standing, backs to the hail, waiting for it to pass.
He leaned over to her and shouted about the clatter of ice on stone. "We gotta lead them, ma'am. Get off him."
She looked at him, her mouth forming a question, so he dismounted and hoped she'd follow suit. The ground was slippery, covered in little icy ball- bearings, and he had trouble keeping his feet for a moment. He looked up to check her progress when he'd turned Hidalgo and settled him. She stood only a couple of feet away and he instinctively stepped back, surprised at her invasion of his personal space. She clung to Billy's reins but seemed at a loss what to do next.
He gathered his stupefied wits and pulled her close, setting her back to his chest and by virtue of his height giving her some shelter. Billy was pulling at her, and he could feel her being dragged a little way from him then back. She didn't complain. She didn't say anything and he could only see her hat, crammed down as tight as his own. He could feel her shaking with cold, though, and wished for a moment to be able to do something to help her.
In a few minutes, the worst of the storm passed, leaving a whitened landscape, brilliant in the first shaft of sunshine. He released her so that she could tend to Billy, while he patted Hidalgo, reassuring him, checking him out for any sore spots.
Quite what happened next, he couldn't for the life of him remember. All he did was bend over to check out his horse's foreleg, then something bumped him, shoving him off-balance and making him take a step back to steady himself. His foot simply did not connect with anything. He slithered backwards, letting go of Hidalgo's rein and trying to grab anything to stop himself, but the steep slope was awash with hailstones and sliding mud. There was nothing to stop him, then he was on his stomach, trying to get himself turned round somehow.
A rock broke his fall. He waited, panting and numb, for the world to make some sense again, then tried to raise his head. A vicious burst of hail made him groan and lie still; then it was gone and he could begin to look around him.
He was half-way down the slope. He thought he was all right, mainly, though moving just right then was out of the question. Waiting until his heart stopped trying to beat its way of out his chest seemed like a plan. Maybe just a few moments' rest, even sleep, would fortify him before he climbed that slope. Or maybe slid to the bottom. Making the decision to do either was beyond him.
"Frank!"
He didn't want to wake. It was warm, the place he'd drifted to, and it was comfortable. Waking up meant facing the cold and the discomfort and the – the sheer trouble of climbing back into his life. But the voice, whosever it was, wasn't going to allow him the luxury of any more sleep.
"Frank! You okay?"
Well, of course he was okay. Heck, he'd fallen off enough horses in his life. Couldn't be much worse than that. Once, he'd broken his leg way out in the prairie. Still managed to get himself back to town and fixed up. Hadn't needed no help, neither. Stubbornly, he kept quiet. Maybe she'd just go on her way.
"I'm coming down. Will your horse stand for me? Billy's run off – I don't know what else to do!"
O'Donnell. Lil. As he remembered who she was, he knew he had to stop her. "No, ma'am, you wait right there. I got myself here, I can get myself out of this." He gathered himself sufficiently to drag himself up onto his knees but putting his right hand down on the ground sent hot knives of pain up his forearm. He kneeled, head down, until they passed then looked up. Some fifteen or twenty feet above him she was kneeling too, peering out over the edge of the gully, with Hidalgo right behind her. She had his lariat in her hand and was uncoiling it rapidly.
"If I drop this down, can you tie it round yourself?"
"I'll try." He already knew he couldn't but if he agreed, the moment when he would have to admit defeat would be put off a little while.
The rope snaked out to him. It was a good throw and he caught the lifeline in his left hand, hoping unreasonably that he could somehow lash it and tie it with one hand. He stood, letting the rope take some of the strain until he realised she was the only one holding his weight.
"Ma'am!" he shouted anxiously. "Let the horse bring me up. I'll pull you over!"
She looked puzzled for a moment then scrambled to her feet. Then she shouted down to him, "How? How do I tie it to him? He won't stand still!"
"You jug-eared son of a mule! Stand for the lady! You ain't got the manners of a jackass!" He was feeling dizzy and nauseous but his tirade vented his feelings and focused his mind. Somehow he managed to wrap the rope once round himself then bring both ends to his left hand. "Dally it round the pommel – tie it off with a half-hitch. He'll pull when I tell him to."
He could hear her sobbing and knew she was having to make this up as she went along. She had no call to know about lariats and roping and such. She had no idea what he meant so he tried again. "Loop the end of the rope over and under and round, like a figure eight – that'll hold it. Hidalgo'll do the rest."
After a few agonising moments she shouted, "I got it! I think I got it. You tie yourself on tight, Frank – the ground's shifting up here!"
Now he had to tell her. "Can't do it, ma'am. You just shove that horse back best you can and I'll hold on."
The rope tightened in his hand and he made it six feet or so before he lost his hold and he fell again, trying this time to roll onto his back. As unconsciousness took his vision, the last sound he heard was Miss Lilian O'Donnell shouting his name.